


Not Your Boy

by beenicetobees



Category: The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals - Team StarKid
Genre: Coming Out, F/F, Homophobic Language, Hurt/Comfort, Internalized Transphobia, Paul is a small town girl, Professor Hidgens never got turned, She doesn't know much, Trans Female Character, Trans Henry Hidgens, Trans Male Character, Trans Paul Matthews, tw slurs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-11
Updated: 2019-05-11
Packaged: 2020-02-29 21:56:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18787012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beenicetobees/pseuds/beenicetobees
Summary: Paul is in a prison, and it's not just because he's been trapped in a bunker for weeks.





	Not Your Boy

When Paul was in fifth grade, he was in a musical. 

It was the Hatchetfield community theater’s production of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, and Paul played Violet Beauregarde, and it was awesome. He was amazing, and he loved every second he was in that costume. He loved the way the audience stood up and cheered. For him. 

On the closing night of the show, he took a little bottle of lip gloss from the costume room. He figured they wouldn’t miss it, they had plenty. He put it on one day, when his dad was out of town and wore it into school. 

“Paul, are you wearing makeup?” demanded Jason Davis.

“No,” he responded, because he wasn’t really. It was just lip gloss.

“You totally are! My dad said that you were a tranny and a faggot because you played a girl in that play. I said you weren’t, but he was right! You are!”

“No, I’m not!” 

“Paul is a girl! Paul likes boys!” Jason shouted at the top of his lungs.

“Stop! No I’m not!” Paul cried. He rubbed the lip gloss off on the sleeve of his jacket.

“My dad says only gay boys are in drama. You do drama, and you played a girl. Get away, I don’t want to kiss you.” He pushed Paul back and walked away.

Paul wished he said something like ‘I would never kiss you, you’re too ugly’ or something like that, but instead he just stayed silent, trying not to cry.

After that, he hated musicals.

~

Paul lay staring at the ceiling at two AM. Everything felt wrong, and it wasn’t just the fact that they had been trapped in the professor’s bunker for weeks as he tried to stop the apocalypse. He felt off. But he always felt off, it was just stronger today. 

He looked to his left, where Emma lay quietly snoring beside him. They had just started to really be official, and it was going well, but they still didn’t really know each other. Paul sighed, and gave up. He silently swung his legs off the side of the bed and navigated the winding halls to the kitchen.

He grabbed a glass from the cupboard and began to fill it with water.

“Hello Paul,” said a voice.

Suddenly there was water and glass everywhere, which had nothing to do with Paul jumping and throwing the cup at the wall behind him.

“Jesus, Professor,” he panted, clutching his chest. It felt wrong.

“Sorry son, I thought you had heard me,” said Professor Hidgens, carefully avoiding the glass to make his way over to the coffee machine. Paul crouched down to pick up the shards.

“Are you okay sir? It’s two AM,”

“Yes, I know Paul. However, the world is turning into a musical as we speak,” the Professor sounded tired. 

“When was the last time you slept? No offense, but you look like shit,” he asked. Professor Hidgens gave a weary smile, then sipped the coffee and started to leave the room. 

“No, wait,” Paul started.

“I’m fine, Paul, go back to bed.”

“I don’t want to,” he said, “Do you need any help? Like, in your lab?” They both paused in the kitchen, looking each other over. 

Professor Hidgens really did look awful. His hair and face were greasy and he had huge bags under his eyes. He looked as if he hadn’t changed his clothes in days. Paul probably looked almost as bad in his now wet shirt and sweatpants and bedhead. He hadn’t been able to sleep in a while, due to the fact that his mind and body were a prison. 

“Sure,” he said hesitantly. He left the kitchen, and Paul followed him through at least twenty intersecting hallways until they reached the door of his lab. “Don’t touch anything unless I tell you to,” Paul nodded.

He sat in silence for a long time, holding things periodically when the Professor told him to. He was perfectly content to sit there, in his slowly drying clothes. But in the quiet made him acutely aware of how they clung to his body, and of how painfully straight and lean it was. He was too tall, he realized when he sat on a table and his feet touched the ground. He scrunched up his face.

“Why are you up and about, dear boy?” asked the Professor. Paul tried not to flinch at ‘dear boy’. There was no reason to. 

“Oh, you know, just, stuff,” he stammered. Professor Hidgens looked up from his microscope to raise an eyebrow.

“Stuff?”

“Yeah, you know, like,” he paused, sighing. “You’re a biology guy, right?”

“Indeed,”

“Well, you know those transgender folk?” he missed how the Professor stiffened, “Is that a real thing, or are those people just looking for attention?” There was silence. The Professor seemed to be debating what to do.

“Is this an attack? Where did this come from? You seemed safe,” Paul shrunk back. The Professor didn’t look angry, so much as he looked confused and disappointed. 

“No, it’s not- it’s not an attack, it’s a question,” he looked at the linoleum tiled floor, and counted the spills that were left unattended until they dried. In the time between when he spoke and when Professor Hidgens replied, he found eleven.

“No, Paul, I’m not looking for attention.” Paul’s head snapped up. 

“You?”

“Yes, Paul, me. I know for a fact that being transgender is real, because I have been a boy my whole life, but other people didn’t know that until I was thirty,” Now it was the Professor’s turn to look at the floor. Paul let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. 

“So- so hypothetically,” he started.

“Of course,”

“If I were to, let's say, be a girl on the inside, that’s real? That’s an actual thing, and I’m not just making things up? Hypothetically?” his- her? arms were crossed tightly across her chest. It still felt wrong. That hadn’t changed.

“Absolutely. Hypothetically, if you were a girl, that would be perfectly real. It would also be alright.” replied Professor Hidgens. 

“Oh. Okay,” she choked. The Professor walked over to her. 

“Stand up so I can hug you, sweetheart,” he said softly. She did, and he squeezed her tightly. “I’ve been where you are, and I know it’s hard. If you ever need to talk to me, I’m right here,” Paul buried her face in his shoulder, not really caring that she got his turtleneck wet. Professor Hidgens pulled away. “Now, dear, go to bed,” she smiled.

“You should too, Professor Hidgens,”

“Oh please, you can call me Henry,” 

She nodded. As she left the room, she turned around. 

“Thank you, Henry,” he waved her off and went back to his microscope. Paul chuckled. 

She slept soundly for the first time in a week.  
~  
The next day, Emma woke up before her. Paul got out of bed, brushed her hair and teeth, and put on her classic dress pants and button down. Ugh. 

She made her way down to the kitchen and made herself some coffee and a bagel. She ate it while reading a copy of Pride and Prejudice. It must have been Henry’s favorite book or something, they were everywhere. 

Emma walked in and wrapped her arms around Paul’s neck. She turned back to kiss her girlfriend. Paul was a lesbian now. Huh.

“Good morning, babe,” said Emma. She looked beautiful, with her hair down and wearing fluffy socks. Paul was starting to wonder what kind of apocalypse Henry had been preparing for. Bare Essentials. 

“Good morning,” she replied gruffly. Emma stole her coffee and started drinking it as she looked through the fridge. “So, Emma, I have a sort of personal question for you,”

Emma nodded at her to continue.

“Do you just like guys? Or do you like girls at all?” Emma paused.

“Why?” She asked, cautious. Damn you, Hatchetfield, you fucking small town.

“Well, if your boyfriend realized that he’s actually a girl, how would you react to that, on the breaking up with her scale?” 

Emma closed the fridge.

“I would say that would be a zero on the breaking up with her scale. I’m bisexual.” She dug into an opened can of peaches that had been in the fridge. 

“Oh. Well, that’s good then.” Paul replied.

“Are you my girlfriend now?” asked Emma.

“Yeah,”

“That’s awesome, I’m really proud of you babe. Do you have a new name in mind?” Paul shrugged. She hadn’t really thought about it. “How about Paula?” Emma laughed as her girlfriend scrunched up her face and shook her head. “Polly?” 

“That’s better, but it’s not right. Could you call me Polly until I think of my name?”

“Sure thing Polly.” 

Polly grinned. She waited until Emma had put down the peaches before running at her and hugging her, not wanting to repeat the two AM water situation.  
~  
Two weeks later she announced to Emma and Henry that her name was Violet. 

Only she knew why, but it was perfect anyway.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not a trans woman, but I am trans. However, you lovely ladies feel free to correct me if I got something horribly wrong. This whole idea came to me in French class and I wrote out the plot instead of conjugations.
> 
> Join my tgwdlm discord here!!: https://discord.gg/tVC3T5


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